brushfire"This, yes, this, it was always like this." -Stanley Koehler
REFLECTIONS OF AN EMPTY NESTER
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On my drive into work in the morning, I often check the sign outside a local Presbyterian church for whatever witty, insightful or inspiring saying is posted that week. On a recent morning, it was four words: “Praise loudly. Blame softly.”
So simple, so concise, so true. Every so often — too often — our community is shaken by a tragedy that affects a young person. It doesn't matter what it is — suicide, an overdose or a criminal act — but one thing is certain: there will be a loud rush to blame and judgment. “What is wrong with the parents?” “They must have known.” “How could they have let this happen?” On the morning I observed those four words on the billboard, my head was filled with what I imagined some friends of mine were going through at that moment, the torment they were experiencing and the public humiliation they were enduring. Their son had been the subject of a nasty news report the night before. They are loving parents and good, kind, caring people. I cannot emphasize this enough: they are good people. They are the type of people you would welcome as your neighbors, your friends, your fellow parishioners or the parents of your children's friends. It's true you never know what goes on behind closed doors, but I would bet the bank if their son, now an adult, was troubled at any point in his path to adulthood, they did whatever they could to give him the support he needed. They tried their best. Sometimes, no matter what you do as parents, your best is not good enough. Your daughter takes her own life and you never saw it coming. You discover your thoughtful, loving son is dealing drugs to feed his addiction. Your child has too much to drink and gets behind the wheel, ending someone else's life. Everything you thought you taught him or her, the example you set and the childhood memories you treasure, are gone in that moment. If you are fortunate enough not to be that parent, remind yourself of the phrase, There but the grace of God, go I. Next time it might be you, and you will be the one in a state of shock, grief and shame, looking to your community to provide support and compassion, not pass judgment.
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Mary Anne BrushJournalist, fiction writer, wife and mother |